Picking James up and putting him on his back where he clung like a baby, Edestone ran for the ladder, quickly followed by Lawrence and Black. He reached the bridge just in time to turn James over to one of the crew, and extend his assistance to Lawrence, who had received a shot in one hand, and was rather dizzily holding on to the ladder with the other. Eventually, though, they all gained the bridge, and with their rescuers already there raced up the gangway under a perfect hail of bullets for the open doorway at the top. But before the last man had passed through, two of the sailors had been shot, and had fallen to their death on the roof. As they entered the ship, they were met by “Specs,” Captain Lee, Dr. Brown, and other officers in uniforms which at the first glance might have been taken for those of the New York Yacht Club, except for the insignia on their caps which was a combination of Edestone’s private signal and the letters L. P. M. Edestone, however, interrupted their attempt to salute him. “Please waive all ceremony,” he said. “We have wounded men here that must be attended to.” At this, Dr. Brown immediately came forward, and after ordering Lawrence and James to the hospital gave a start as his glance fell upon Edestone. “You did not tell me that you yourself were wounded, sir,” he exclaimed; and then for the first time Edestone discovered that his face, hands, and clothing were covered with blood which was streaming from a wound above his temple. He was about to permit himself also to be examined, when there was heard from below the detonation of one of the Kaiser’s big mortars; and pulling away from the Doctor, he called an excited order to “Specs”: “Throw on your full charge, and lift her as fast as you can!” He ran to the gangway in time to see the wire carried up to a great height by the ball from the mortar settling down across the Little Peace Maker about midships. It was falling now, and would soon come in contact with the ship. When it did, there was a slight jar perceptible, but no such result as the enemy had hoped. The wire was so quickly fused, accompanying an explosion giving out an intense light, that it seemed to shoot to the earth like a streak of lightning, setting fire to or knocking down everything that lay in its path. Another and another mortar shot followed until the sky seemed to be filled with falling wires which were swinging, twisting, and snapping above him. The Little Peace Maker was the centre of an electrical storm, and was sending back by every wire messages of death to those who were striving to bring her down. The ship was rising very rapidly now, however, and almost before Edestone had time to sing out, “Steady now, as you are,” she was 3000 feet above the German capital, and out of range of the wire-throwers. CHAPTER XXXIII YACHTING IN THE AIR